


Help From a Friend

by Deathandcommas



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Banshees, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Excessive use of the word fuck, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Swearing, The Mage (Simon Snow) is an Asshole, Vomiting, fuck the mage, just a little, not too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathandcommas/pseuds/Deathandcommas
Summary: After being dragged into battle by The Mage, an injured Simon gets help from an unexpected person.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Help From a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I was a little sick of looking at this after the last draft and did not reread again before posting... feel free to point out any mistakes!
> 
> Enjoy!

SIMON

I was unceremoniously plucked from seventh period Greek today, and shoved into the back of The Mage’s Range Rover. I’m actually doing alright in Greek right now so I’m not too put out about missing class. I am, however, put out about being forced to sit in the back seat. After all these years, you’d think The Mage would remember I get carsick in the back. Probably he does remember, but I always put up with it so he doesn’t care. His passenger seat is full of jars and strange, deadly looking equipment today, so it’s probably best not to argue. It’s usually best not to argue.

I roll the window down halfway, shut my eyes, and focus on breathing the fresh air. We’re taking a winding, hilly path, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to handle it. I don’t even dare to open my mouth to ask The Mage where we’re going today. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

We finally come to a stop on the edge of a wood, and I all but fall out of the car and into the grass. I catch my breath, and I want to wait for my stomach to settle, but The Mage is in a hurry. 

He explains what we’re here for as we walk through the wood. 

Banshee hunting.

Not banshee fighting. Banshee hunting. 

The banshees aren’t causing any problems. In fact, The Mage tells me gleefully, they’re hibernating (I didn’t even know banshees hibernated) so now is the perfect time to hunt them.

I ask if the banshees have done something wrong. I’ve never heard of using banshee bits in spells or potions. We don’t use bits of _any_ intelligent being in spells or potions as far as I know.

They haven’t done anything wrong. The Mage wants to study them. It’s something about lung capacity and prolonged casting that I don’t really understand. He asked them to participate in his research. They declined. 

The Mage doesn’t take no for an answer.

I wish I’d asked what we were doing in the car. I could’ve worked on my argument then. I’m not good at speaking on my feet and The Mage is hard to argue with. By the time I manage to spit something out about this not feeling right and not wanting to participate we’re at the banshee den. 

Before I can really voice my protest, The Mage is attacking the lair, waking them all.

The sound of the banshees waking up is the most horrible noise I’ve ever heard. It pierces through me and fills my head as they start to fight back, advancing upon me and The Mage.

My sword appears in my hand without being called and I try to drive them back without killing them, without hurting them. I think The Mage is trying to tell me something, but I can’t hear him over the deafening shrieks that fill the wood. 

Suddenly, his voice booms louder than even the banshees’ wailing. “SIMON! TRY TO TAKE SOME ALIVE!”

Take some? How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I can barely think straight. My head is pounding, the noise surrounding me is overwhelming all of my other senses. I’m moving on pure instinct now, not a thought in my head.

This isn’t my fight.

My ears are ringing, my _whole body_ is ringing. I’m barely keeping myself alive, let alone _capturing banshees_. The Mage is on fire though. He flashes around the battlefield, cutting down banshees right and left. It doesn’t look like he’s trying to take them alive. Is that my job then? 

The more he kills, the louder they scream. I fall to my knees and it’s all I can do to keep holding my sword. That’s the only thing I can think about. Keep holding the sword. 

I think the banshees know I don’t want to hurt them, that I’m not going to attack them if they leave me alone. So they do. They retreat from me and converge upon The Mage.

I can tell he’s still screaming at me. Probably he wants me to fight. But I can’t. I won’t.

I stay on the ground, cover my ears, shut my eyes. Try to drown out the sound. I’m starting to leak magic, I think just from the overwhelming pain. I’ll be lucky if I’m not deaf after this. I’m surprised I can still hear them screaming at all. Probably it’s their own kind of magic, makes you hear it even if you shouldn’t be able to.

I manage to open my eyes. The Mage is trying to draw them back to me, and he’s close enough that I can see some kind of sound muffler attached to his head. My vision goes red and blurry. The air around us is thickening with my magic, with my rage. 

“You have to kill them Simon!” he screams at me, “I can’t take them all myself!”

I don’t want to kill them all, I don’t want to kill _any_ of them, but I don’t know if I can stop it. I’m going to go off. Everything is too much--the banshees’ wailing, The Mage’s shouting, his fucking headgear, the injustice of everything--I could save them if I calm down, but I’m at the point of no return. I can never calm down when I’m in battle with The Mage. Never. 

He’s still slaughtering banshees, and the noise is so much I think I might be sick. A banshee head flies past me, spraying me with thick, black blood and that’s it. 

I fall forward onto all fours and retch. 

I explode.

When I come back down, I’m shielding The Mage with my body. The remaining banshees have turned to dust. I want to cry.

“Well,” The Mage grumbles, shaking blood and rubble from his hair, I don’t know how I can hear him. Banshee magic I guess. “I had hoped for some living test subject, but I suppose this will do.” 

I stare at him in shock, “What will do, sir?”

He gestures to the corpses littering the ground, the ones that died before I went off, “We can harvest some lungs while they’re still fresh. I should be able to preserve them. If we find one that still has its head we can bring back the whole cadaver. I should be able to simulate life well enough for testing purposes.” 

He turns to me, “Go back to my car and get the tools from the front seat. I’ll do the dissection, you can just package things up for me.”

I walk back to the car without a word. The ringing in my ears hasn’t stopped, and I feel like my head is going to burst. Best to just do what The Mage says so I can go home.

I don’t puke as I help him collect his test matter, but it’s a close thing. The building migraine and the gore of it all is a lot. By the time we finish, my whole body is shaking with pain and exhaustion. I’m covered in banshee blood. We get back to the car, and The Mage loads his jars into the front seat. I don’t have the energy to complain.

Halfway back to Watford, The Mage takes a deep breath and I brace for a speech. I have my eyes shut tight again, face pressed against the crack in the window. 

“You disobeyed my orders today, Simon.”

I force my eyes to meet his in the mirror. “I’m sorry sir. I couldn’t take them alive. The screaming made it too hard to focus.”

He whips around to face me, “Were you not wearing your ear protection?”

What the fuck. “Sir, I didn’t bring ear protection. I was in Greek.”

He huffs in annoyance. “Simon, your headgear is in the box beside your seat.”

There is a box next to me. I open it. Well shit. 

“I’m sorry sir, you didn’t say this was for me. Or I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

“Simon I need you to always be paying attention! You have to stay alert! You have to follow orders! I brought you with me today because I knew I couldn’t take all the banshees alone, and you didn’t do your part. I might’ve been killed if you didn’t go off.”

I shake my head, which does nothing to help the churning in my stomach, so I stop, take a breath, “I’m sorry.” 

Then I keep my mouth tightly closed until we get back to Watford. 

Once we’re back, The Mage takes my arm and I resist the urge to shove him away. “Do you need to see the nurse?”

“No sir.”

“Very well Simon, go get cleaned up. We will talk more about your performance tomorrow.”

  
  


I make my way through the courtyard back to Mummer’s House. The sun is still up, but not many students are about. I guess it’s a little cold for a picnic. 

I think it’s still dinner time, but I’m too sick to eat and there’s no way I can handle the noise of the dining hall right now.

I get dizzy on the stairs of Mummer’s House and almost have to sit down. I lean carefully against the wall, closing my eyes, breathing deeply. My headache is getting worse. A door opens down the hall, and when it slams shut I whimper in pain. 

“You alright mate? You look like you’ve been killed and brought back a few times today.” 

I squint through one eye, it’s Dev Grimm. 

“M’good,” I whisper. “Banshees.” 

“Merlin Snow, why’d you go bothering the banshees? It's hibernating season!”

I open my eyes fully in surprise and immediately regret it. The light makes the pain in my head a thousand times worse and I sink to the ground. 

“I didn’t know, didn’t want to bother them.” Suddenly I feel emotional again, and vulnerable. Way too vulnerable. 

Dev squats in front of me, speaking softly now, “It’s okay Snow. Do you need the nurse?”

“No, just need to lay down.”

He nods, taking my hand, “C’mon, I’ll help you the rest of the way. You’re dead on your feet.” 

I let Dev pull me up, and my head spins instantly. My stomach lurches and I press a hand to my mouth, willing the nausea to pass. 

When it does, I nod carefully at Dev and let him help me up the stairs. He’s supporting almost all of my weight, but I feel too terrible to be embarrassed about it. 

We finally make it all the way up, and the door pops open for me without a spell. 

My room is, thankfully, empty. I turn off the light and try to collapse onto the floor, but Dev doesn’t let me. He maneuvers me over to my bed and helps me sit, then plops down beside me. The room is dim, but sunlight still shines in through the open window. I haven’t felt this bad after a battle in years.

“Need any help mate?” he’s gesturing to my whole body, but I don't know what he means. Help with what?

I shake my head, which is a mistake, and before I can do anything to stop it I’ve vomited over my lap.

Dev cringes away from me, then hesitantly pats me on the shoulder. He points his wand at my legs and murmurs, “ **Out out damn spot**.” 

I groan in relief, “Thanks.”

Dev just shakes his head, “I really think you need the nurse.”

I lay back across the bed, shutting my eyes, “No way am I making it back down those stairs.” 

He sighs, exasperated, “Fine, whatever.” He gets up, and I’m worried he’s going to leave--even though I told him I didn’t want help--but he just goes into the en suite and starts running water. 

A few minutes later, he comes back into the room, pulls me carefully out of bed and into the bathroom. The brightness of the room shocks me, and I hiss in pain, shutting my eyes again. He flips the light off, and lights the candle we keep in the loo for… courtesy purposes.

“What are we doing?” I manage.

I can tell he’s rolling his eyes at me, “You are taking advantage of the fucking tub in your _en suite toilet_ you spoiled prick. You’re fucking disgusting and there’s no way you can stand up long enough to shower. So you’re going to get in the fucking bath and scrub off the banshee blood, and I’m going to heal your dumbass banshee-slaughtering self.” 

My chest stabs a little, “I didn’t want to kill them.” I sound very small. 

Dev stares at me for a minute, “It’s okay Snow.” His voice is soft. “Can you manage your own clothes?”

I blush at that, but then I figure I’m well past the point of embarrassment. I strip down carefully, and let Dev guide me into the hot water. I close my eyes and beg the heat to take away some of the pain in my body, to ease my headache. My ears are still ringing, but not as loudly as before.

Finally, I start to wash off the blood and muck. I can see Dev in the candlelight, sitting on the toilet lid, watching me as if I’ll drown if he looks away. After a few minutes, he comes over and crouches next to the tub, pulling out his wand. I flinch reflexively, but if he wanted to hurt me he could’ve done when he found me on the stairs. 

He casts healing spells on me, over and over, and the aching in my body starts to fade. My head is still pounding though, and nothing he tries can make it stop. His frustrated voice as he spells me is threatening to make it worse, and I grab onto his wrist to stop him. 

“It’s alright, I’m fine. Thank you.” 

He stops.

DEV

“Would you grab me some pants? I don’t think this water is going to get me any cleaner now.” Simon’s flushing, and even in the dim light of the bathroom, I can tell the water is dark and murky. 

I return with a pair of boxers and help Simon out of the tub. He’s trembling as I guide him over to sit on the toilet lid, and I can’t tell if he’s cold or in pain. I hand him a towel and he looks away as he dries off. He holds out his hand again, and I get the hint, passing him his pants. 

He struggles with them for a minute, but I spare him the indignity of trying to assist. He towels off his head, shaking out the water, and I think it was probably too vigorous because he drops to his knees and vomits again. 

I scoot over to him and pat his back while he heaves over the toilet, gasping for air. 

This is not how I imagined my night going. Sitting in a dark bathroom, comforting a vomiting, naked Simon Snow. He just looked so helpless and upset on the stairs. He was barely holding himself up. I couldn’t leave him like that. 

The retching stops, hopefully for good, and I help him up again. He still looks wrecked. What happened to him tonight?

I take him back into the room and spell his blankets clean before helping him into bed. He’s still trembling, and I think it’s from exhaustion at this point.

“Why are you doing this?” he’s squinting up at me from his pillow. “You hate me.”

I sit down on the edge of his bed, keeping my voice low, “I don’t hate you, Snow. But I don’t think anyone in their right mind would’ve left you alone looking the way you did on the stairs, whether they hated you or not.”

He sniffs. “The Mage did.”

“You were with The Mage? He made you fight the banshees? What the fuck Snow why didn’t he make sure you were okay?”

Simon shrugs. Then he takes a deep breath, lets it out slow. “He asked if I needed the nurse. I told him no.”

“Bullshit. He’s the fucking Mage, he should’ve healed you himself!” I sputter, 

“What the hell even happened with the banshees? Why did you have to fight them?”

He gives me a miserable look.

“We weren’t fighting banshees. We were hunting them. _He_ was hunting them. I didn’t know until it was too late. He didn’t tell me what we were doing until it was too late.” He looks so fucking sad. “They were just minding their own business, _hibernating_ , they weren’t hurting anybody. I tried to refuse but he just started attacking them, killing them. He wanted me to try and take them alive, but I couldn’t think over all the bloody shrieking.” 

The shrieking he says. Fuck. The. Mage. 

“You’re telling me that The Mage dragged you out of class to take you banshee hunting and didn’t give you ear protection?”

He shrugs awkwardly. “He had it for me. It was in a box. In the car. I was supposed to know it was for me I guess.”

“Merlin Snow! Does this happen often then? Is this where you disappear off to all the time?” he flinches at my volume and I lower my voice, “Hurting innocent creatures on The Mage’s behalf with no reasonable protection?”

His face falls (I didn’t think he could possibly look more pitiful. I was wrong.) and I feel bad immediately. “I didn’t want to hurt them. I didn’t mean to hurt them. I was just trying to keep them off of me. Until he made me go off.”

I’ve always heard shit about The Mage from the Old Families, but this is so much worse than any of the propaganda they spread about him. He adopted Snow, made him his heir, only to use him for his power. He takes him out of class, drags him off to battle, to fights that Simon has no desire to take part in, doesn’t protect him, and makes him go off. I don’t know Simon well, but everyone knows that he hates going off. 

“Why do you still do shit for him?”

He stares at me like I’ve just turned into a numpty. “He saved me. He brought me here. He showed me my destiny. He’s teaching me, training me to be better so I can win the final battle. I’d be nothing without him.”

The Mage has him fucking brainwashed. I realize I’ve been rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. “What did he want with the banshees?” I whisper. 

By the fading light of the window, I see his eyes fill with tears, not for the first time tonight. “He wanted.. test subjects. Wanted me to take some alive so he could study their lungs. Dunno what for. I think he told me, but I didn’t understand. None of them survived. None of their bodies were even whole by the end…” he trails off, squeezing his eyes and his mouth tightly shut. 

“So it was all for nothing then? If none of them survived I mean?”

Simon shakes his head, “No we still--” 

I catch the look on his face just in time and shove a wastebasket into his lap before he makes a mess of himself again. 

I pat his shoulder apologetically while he gags over the bin, “Sorry mate, I’ll stop asking questions.”

He waves me off, even as he heaves, tears streaking down his cheeks. 

Finally it stops and I take the bin back from him, spelling it empty. He collapses back against the headboard with a whimper, shutting his eyes again. His curls are plastered to his forehead, and I brush them away from his face unconsciously. His eyes flutter back open and he manages a weak smile. Even injured and puking after a battle he still looks bloody amazing. He’s practically glowing.

“Thanks for the help mate. Don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t found me.”

“Probably fainted on the stairs and blamed Baz for shoving you down them.”

He glowers at me in what I hope is fake outrage, “He did push me down those stairs! The fucker admitted it! He was smug about it for weeks!”

I lean in conspiratorially, “You didn’t hear it from me, but it _was_ an accident. He just took the credit.”

Simon continues glaring at me for a moment, then laughs faintly. “Of course he did the bloody asshole.”

Suddenly, the door bangs open and light floods the room. Simon yelps in pain, clutching his head and reaching for me. I shove the bin back into his lap and he buries his head in it.

Speak of the devil. 

  
  


BAZ

What in Merlin’s name is going on here? Snow is in his bed, vomiting into a bin and Dev Fucking Grimm is sitting beside him, rubbing his back, glaring daggers at me. I must be dreaming. There is no universe in which this situation could occur. I realise I’ve been standing in the doorway, staring, for a good thirty seconds. 

I shut the door behind me. “What the hell is going on?” 

Snow winces at the sound of my voice, then lifts his head, squinting at me. He looks bloody awful. Sweat, tears, and drool alike drip from his face. He’s not even making an effort to pretend he’s alright. Snow hasn’t openly cried in front of me since second year. Not that he’s really crying, more like gasping for air and choking on bile. I think the tears are just a side effect. 

“Turn off the fucking light mate and lower your voice,” Dev says softly. His hand is still on Simon’s back. It’s giving me murderous feelings. Of course he doesn’t know that I’m head over heels for Simon, but it’s still a betrayal. An unforgivable betrayal. From my own blood, my own--

“Earth to Baz.” The traitor is waving his free hand in the air. Right. The light. I switch it back off and step towards them. 

“What’s happening right now?” I try to keep my voice low, and as nonvenomous as I can make it. It’s still a little venomous. 

Dev waits patiently for Simon to finish retching, it looks like he’s just puking up water, then takes the bin from him and spells it empty. He hands Simon a cloth to wipe his face, and once Simon has collapsed--with his head on my traitorous cousin’s shoulder-- he turns his attention back to me. 

“Simon’s not feeling well.”

I snort. It’s an ugly sound but _honestly_. “Yes actually, I can see that.” 

Simon opens his eyes, “Just a migraine.” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“Did you cast any healing spells?” I ask he-who-shall-not-be-named.

He nods, “Yeah a few. You might do better than me though.”

Simon shakes his head slowly, “No, no more spells. M’okay. Just wanna sleep. Have to see The Mage in the morning.”

Dev stares, “Excuse me, you have to see whom?” 

“He’s always seeing The Mage. What’s it to you?”

He ignores me, still staring at Simon, who has hunkered down under the blanket. “Why do you have to see The Mage in the morning Simon?”

A small, muffled voice comes from Snow’s direction, “He wants to talk about my performance.”

Now Dev is looking murderous. “He left you in your condition to make it back here without a care for your safety, and he wants you to come see him tomorrow so he can give you notes on your, your swordwork?!”

“Volume,” Simon whispers. 

“Sorry,” Dev whispers back. “But that is fucked up. Fuck The Mage. You’re not seeing him tomorrow.”

Since when are Dev and Simon so close? He sounds just like Bunce honestly. She’s usually the only one who orders Simon around like that. Have I been missing something? 

Simon emerges from his blankets, annoyance etched across his brow. “Look Grimm, I appreciate your help today, really. I would have passed out on the stairs earlier if you weren’t there. But don’t think you know everything that’s going on here alright? It’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be. Yeah he fucked me over today, but I owe him everything. I told you, I would be nobody if The Mage hadn’t made me his heir. I wouldn’t even be here at Watford. I’d be dead or in prison for blowing something up. No, I don’t agree with everything he does, but he means well. And he’s all I’ve got. So if he asks me to meet him I’m going to bloody well meet him!” 

He glares at Dev, and then at me. “Now, I feel like shit and I’m tired of talking and I’m tired of puking and I’m going to sleep.” 

I meet Dev’s eye. He looks torn between crying and punching something. “Alright mate,” he says finally, “I’ll get going then. Get some rest yeah?” 

He stands up, gives Simon a long look, then heads for the door, patting me on the back on his way out. The door closes behind him, and I only hesitate a moment before following. 

DEV

Big, dumb, beautiful, selfless bastard! Why doesn’t he get that The Mage is using him? I’d hardly spoken to Snow before today and I could tell he wasn’t alright immediately. How the fuck did The Mage not see it? I don’t care what Snow says about who’s owed what. The Mage is an asshole and he doesn’t deserve Snow’s respect. 

I shut the door softly behind me, and lean against the wall, taking a deep breath. When I open my eyes, Baz is standing next to me in the stairwell. He looked exceptionally vicious back in the room, but now he just seems confused.

“What the hell was that about mate?” his voice is still soft. 

“He just got dizzy on the stairs, looked like he was going to faint. I was there, helped him to his room.”

“Yeah and then you sat in his bed and rubbed his back while he puked. Which was fucking disgusting by the way.”

I don’t know what to say. I shouldn’t feel so called out. That’s literally what happened. 

I don’t say anything. 

Baz continues, “I was talking about the stuff with The Mage actually. Why would you tell him he can’t visit tomorrow?”

“Bloody hell Baz! You’ve lived with him for years, surely you know The Mage is using him!”

He nods calmly. “Of course I know that. Everyone knows that. Even Penelope Bunce knows that. But why did you say it?”

“Because nobody fucking deserves to be treated like they don’t matter. Nobody should be treated like they’re disposable,” I choke on the last word and my eyes blur. Suddenly, everything seems overwhelming. 

Baz crowds into my space, wrapping his arms lightly around me. His chest bumps softly against my bowed head and I inhale his scent, try to calm down. 

“He really is the Chosen One isn’t he?” I whisper. “He really is more important than all of us. More powerful. Destined.” 

“That he is Devereaux. That he is.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment if you like!
> 
> Also, I got Dev's full name, Devereaux, from @thehoneyedhufflepuff. She writes amazing fic so check her out if you somehow haven't already! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [deathandcommas](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/deathandcommas)


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